


Stranded

by plumtrees



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Rain, Teikou Era, more gen than relationship tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3925777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haizaki was never good at comfort. It was the one area he tried so hard to cover up by being exceptionally good at being an asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranded

Haizaki cursed at the downpour. It came out of nowhere and didn’t give any sign of stopping anytime soon. He eyed the umbrella rack situated near the entrance, scouring for an umbrella without a lock that he could snatch up just so he could go home. He found one, pink and decorated with bunnies. Fuck that. He’d recover more dignity by just braving the rain without an umbrella.

He sighed and looked straight ahead, mentally gauging how drenched he’d be by the time he reached the nearest shelter. He was just about prepared to sprint until he noticed a distinctly human silhouette standing smack dab in the middle of the rain.

“Oi, the fuck are you doing in the rain?!”

The yell came before Haizaki could register. It wasn’t as if he particularly _cared_ about idiots who go around standing in the rain like they were some fucking protagonist in some shitty movie, but he knew that weird shade of light blue hair anywhere. He really didn’t know Kuroko, admittedly, but he liked to think the shrimp wasn’t crazy enough to be standing in the rain without an umbrella, unless he caught the crazy virus from Akashi after Haizaki quit.

It was surprising enough that Haizaki noticed him, but given the fact that he was standing alone in the middle of the courtyard, in the pouring rain, Haizaki was more surprised that no one else did. Kuroko didn’t answer, didn’t even look up. Haizaki felt pinpricks of concern well up in his stomach.

“Fucking get over here, idiot!” Haizaki tried again, to no avail.

Haizaki clicked his tongue, threw his bag to the side and hitched his blazer up to serve as meager protection before sprinting out into the rain. 

-

All he got when he grabbed the idiot by the front of his shirt and dragged him back into the school was a look of surprise. Haizaki punched it right off of his face.

Haizaki wasn’t even sure why he did it (violence was sort of his native language at this point) but it was oddly satisfying. Kuroko looked up at him, eyes clearer than they were when Haizaki caught a glimpse of them from under the rain, and said nothing.

Haizaki scoffed at his sorry state when he finally stood up, nothing that he was only in his basketball practice attire. “Where’s the rest of your shit?”

Kuroko’s shoulders hunched and he ducked his head lower. Haizaki sighed, guessing he probably didn’t have his phone with him (or if he did, it probably wouldn’t even be functional anymore). He whipped out his own phone from his pocket and handed the device over.

“Call the freaks so they can pick you up, I ain’t getting anywhere near that shithole.” Haizaki wasn’t even sure if any of them would pick up if they saw it was his number, wasn’t even sure if any of them _kept_ his number after he quit.

Kuroko continued to stand there, doing nothing but make a puddle right at the school entrance and looking like a miserable little fuck. Haizaki wasn’t sure why he persisted, but he was rapidly losing the patience he didn’t even know he had. 

He pressed his keypad until Akashi’s number showed up on his screen. He was about to make the call when suddenly two wet hands closed around his wrists, their owner’s eyes wild and fearful.

“What the fuck?” Haizaki started, but he didn’t have time to formulate a better question because Kuroko was shaking his head wildly, sending water _everywhere_. Haizaki would’ve punched him again but his hands were trembling far too much to just be from the cold, and the look in his eyes stopped Haizaki dead.

Kuroko only let go when Haizaki flicked his phone shut, but he still wouldn’t stop shaking.

-

Kuroko still didn’t say anything, even when Haizaki pulled him into the first floor toilet and locked the door.

“You know, I fucked a lot of people in this room. That stall in particular. You wanna add to the list?”

He meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but then again, he and Kuroko never really had the same brand of humor. Kuroko stiffened and glared at him from behind bangs dripping with rainwater. Haizaki dumped his towel over the shorter boy’s head in apology.

He didn’t know why he kept packing the damn thing. It, along with a spare set of clothes and a water bottle, always made their way into his bag even though they remained unused. As they have ever since he quit the basketball team.

 _Well, at least they came in handy._ Haizaki thought, as he peeled off his polo. He glanced at Kuroko from the corner of his eye and rolled his eyes when he found him backed into the farthest corner of the cramped room.

“Wipe yourself off, idiot,” he huffed, “I was joking, you’re not my type.”

Kuroko still didn't move. Haizaki gave up trying to convince him and instead threw him his spare shirt. “Put this on after. I don’t think the shorts’ll fit, but it’s long enough to cover most of you anyway.”

Kuroko did not react to the jab at his height. Haizaki tried not to be too disappointed. He turned and busied himself with drying himself off as best as he could. Unabashedly, he shucked off all his clothes and pulled on his spare shorts.

He turned to look at Kuroko, uncaring if he wasn’t done yet. Fortunately (unfortunately? Haizaki wasn’t really sure), Kuroko was already curled up against the wall, towel draped over his head like fluffy grey hood. His shirt looked more like a nightgown on Kuroko, stopping just above his knees. Kuroko’s hands were positioned under his thighs, hugging his legs close to himself, Haizaki couldn’t tell if he was still wearing underwear or not.

He trudged over and sat next to the shorter boy, uncaring about personal space. It was a small bathroom and it wasn’t like _he_ was petite in any way, so there wasn’t much space to be had between them. Of course, Haizaki could have opted to sit on the opposite wall, but he found that staring at Kuroko was more disconcerting that squeezing himself in the space beside him and the sink.

Kuroko shivered at the feel of his skin (well Kuroko wasn’t exactly a bundle of heat himself, right now), and inched away. He was still probably unconvinced that Haizaki was joking about the fucking thing, nothing Haizaki could do about that now, really. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Quit the team.”

“Haizaki-kun,” and _yes_ the idiot finally talks. His tone suggested that he'd protest and Haizaki cut him off before he could.

“Akashi’s an asshole and if you don’t quit now you’ll just be tying yourself to a sinking ship. That teamwork you like so much? It’s not gonna last. Not at the rate they’re going.”

Kuroko was silent now, and Haizaki knew that he had struck the right nerve. He had always thought of Kuroko as naive, hanging onto a concept as fragile as _friendship_ and _teamwork_ and _love for the game_ in a team like Teikou, no less. It wasn't like he hadn't given the brat fair warning, after all. He directed his gaze upwards, remembering the suffocating fear of being surrounded by people who grew far too strong far too fast.

“I’ve been there with the best of them, I know what they’re like, I know what they’re going to turn into.”

_I've already turned into it._

It was a testament to their physical proximity that Haizaki felt the first sob more than he heard it. Soon enough, a second followed, then a third, the next set coming like a series of hiccups. He glanced to see Kuroko curling in tighter around himself, attempting to disguise the trembling of his body through uncharacteristically excessive movements.

It was pathetic, really. Haizaki liked riling people up to see them get mad, but he hated it when people cried. It made him feel horribly uncomfortable, like someone had just served him a plate of live worms and fully expected him to eat.

Kuroko curled in so tightly around himself that he looked even smaller than he usually did. His hands dug so hard into his legs that Haizaki was pretty sure they’d bruise.

Haizaki was never good at comfort. It was the one area he tried so hard to cover up by being exceptionally good at being an asshole. But here, with the only person he’d actually managed to tolerate ( _like?_ Fuck that.), Haizaki reached over and flung an arm around a set of too-narrow and too-bony shoulders and pulled the owner against his side. It was not gentle, Haizaki didn’t think he was capable of anything less than roughness, but at least Kuroko stopped trembling.

Haizaki didn’t say anything when he felt a small, cold hand close around his, didn’t say anything when something wet fell from Kuroko’s face and landed on his skin, far too warm to be rainwater.

-

A little while later, the rain stopped, and Kuroko peeled himself from Haizaki’s side. The newly-exposed skin prickled in a way that Haizaki convinced himself was psychosomatic, and he watched as Kuroko, looking much like his usual self, dutifully handed him his mostly-dried uniform before putting his own clothes back on.

Kuroko bowed slightly when he returned his towel and shirt, saying something or another about offering to wash them. Haizaki roughly jerked them from his hands without looking up.

“Just fucking go already,” he snapped, not allowing Kuroko to finish. Kuroko, ever the obedient little shit, bowed deeply again, muttered a soft apology and thanks before shuffling out the door.

His side was still warm and prickling, and his towel smelled of rainwater and vanilla. Wordlessly, he got dressed and walked home.


End file.
